


Brothers in Arms I and II

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-09-30
Updated: 2001-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 08:22:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Alex "Sleeping Beauty" Krycek wakes up... and meets Cinderella.





	Brothers in Arms I and II

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Blind Date by Kand

Hi everybody!  
Here's the 1st episode of a new series, "Brothers In Arms". You can read it at http://www.geocities.com/kand2m/bia01.html with a beautiful background... If you prefer the classical text version, see below!  
Kisses, Kand.

TITLE: "Blind Date"  
AUTHOR: Kand  
RATING: NC-17 (m/m sex)  
SERIES: "Brothers In Arms" - 1/?  
FANDOM: X-Files  
CHARACTERS: Krycek's POV  
SPOILERS: none, or all K's episodes. Let's say it's an AU starting somewhere along the 7th season.  
SUMMARY: Alex "Sleeping Beauty" Krycek wakes up... and meets Cinderella.  
AUTHOR's NOTE: That's a beginning, folks. And I intend to take you as far as I can...  
ARCHIVE: Yes, just tell me.  
URL: http://www.geocities.com/kand2m/bia01.html  
FEEDBACK: eagerly awaited at !  
BETA: thanks a lot to our dear Inky <:3 )~~ (Anne Phoenix) And I'm dedicating this background to her :^)

* * *

"Blind Date"  
by Kand

\-------------------  
//Where... am... I...?//  
Ouch, my head. Pounding. And... everything's dark... so dark... oooh...  
\-------------------

(Later)

Oh my head! It hurts. And all this darkness? Something on my face... a blindfold. Jeeze, where am I? I can't move...! Oh no, I'm toasted... My head... Swooning...

\-------------------

(Even later)

I'm waking up, so slowly... It is not the first time? I seem to remember something, a feeling of deja-vu... Everything's dark. Oh yeah, a blindfold, right. And my head is pounding, oh God... I try to move, but my entire body is numb. Come on, Alex, focus...! One thing at a time. My hand. Can it move? Fingers, at least? Oooh, yes... just a little, but I *can* move them. There's something cold and hard around my wrist. A handcuff would probably be a good bet I think?

And feeling the discomfort in my arm, I'd say my hand is tied on a level with my head? My, it's difficult to think with that throbbing jello inside my skull... Whoever sung that lullaby for me was good at it, fuck!

I try to move my head slightly. Ouch! The wall behind me is cold. Not to mention hard. What's wrong with my left shoulder? It seems twisted. The rest of my body... Hey, I don't feel anything! Oh no! I wonder... if I'm... still whole... or at least... not... less... than usual... Fuck, my head... It's swimming... again...

\-------------------

(Even more later)

Hmmm... Dark, so dark... oh, damn, the blindfold. I remember. My head is heavy... At least it isn't throbbing any more. Well, not that much. Time for a check-up, Alex.

Right wrist? Handcuffed, for sure. Beside my ear. When I move my hand, as far as I can I mean, I hear a metallic sound. A chain I guess. Left shoulder? I have no clue really. But it feels twisted and I can't move on this side. What did *they* do with my prosthesis? It's on: I can feel the straps around my chest. But there's a tugging sensation. I'm woozy... I've been drugged. Did *they* grant me a vet's dose or what? I really *hate* to be turned into a lab rat, ha ha.

Yes, I still can laugh at myself. And believe me, that's no good news for *them* - whoever they are. And who are *they*? What are my last memories?

Cancerman. He made a call on the cellular. Fixed an appointment in that warehouse in the Docks' district. It was, hum... Saturday night. Eleven. I parked the rented car three streets further and came back to check the surroundings to find a back alley and an emergency door... Then, blackness. Well played, Smokey. Am I getting slow?

I really can't move my legs though I feel the cold floor under them; concrete?

I must rely on my remaining senses...

Smell? Cold. Wet. Musty. Something... rusty? Rotting wood... Old scents only, I'd say. The housekeeper must be underpaid.

Hear? Aaah, now that's interesting. Adjusting to the lowest level I can reach, I perceive faint rumbles. One at a time, approaching then fading, irregular... Car engines. Traffic noise. But the area doesn't seem that frequented. A louder noise, from afar, slowly increasing... and fading away again to nothing. An aircraft, but not above this place, as I didn't feel any tremour in the wall behind me.

I tune in my hearing to closer surroundings - my whole conscience concentrated in that unique sense. I breathe slow and deep. //A Quiet Sun. A Quiet Sun. A Quiet Sun... // My personal mantra operates its little magic as I become aware of a very faint sound on my right side. Breathing. Very light. Undisturbed. Somebody who doesn't know I'm awake. If it's a guard, he doesn't know *me*, either. Fine. Very fine...

\-------------------

(Still no sense of time, you know!)

Shit, I dozed off. For how long? I'm immediately aware of my situation, and without moving I tense, listening to my right side. That's it, the guard's been moving and the part of my brain that never sleeps has rung its alarm. A rattling noise, decreasing steps... Coming to a stop. A door opening, not closing. Running liquid and a sigh. More liquid? Oh flushing. All right, the guy had a pee. He's coming back. Hey, didn't your mom tell you to wash your hands??? Rattling, cracking... I can see him in my mind, sitting down on a lonely little chair. For he's alone, I'm almost sure of that now.

He's yawning. He definitely *doesn't* know who I am.

My own private Cerberus' breathing gets slower and slower... A few minutes later a snore tells me that he has fallen asleep. Nightie-night, guy. If Uncle Alex can take care of you, your boss won't have enough left of you to chastise for your incompetence.

Time to elaborate escape plans. So, the story so far: I'm tied, handcuffed, blindfolded. My legs are numb - still that drug. But I can move my toes, I can feel... socks. Shoes. My knees? I can feel the contact of my denim jeans. And my buttocks are sore from that cold, hard, rough floor. I try to turn my hips a little bit. Hmmm. Yeah. My body is in the process of eliminating the drug. But, man, am I thirsty! My mouth is dry like an old parchment.

And I can't figure out how I'm going to get loose. I'm a survivor, right; but I'm not Houdini, what do you think? Shit. I shouldn't admit it, but I find this whole situation rather depressing. Pfew.

Wait!!! What's that noise?

...

Steps. Not the guard's; my little mate's sleeping like an angel. Shuffling steps, careful, muffled... Coming steadily closer on my right side...

*Shbonck*.

Yeah, it was a "shbonck". And the unmistakable sound of a body sliding to the ground accompanied by the shock of a chair following it. Uh oh.

More confused noises, then I clearly hear a door being unlocked. Is this the cavalry? Or the firing squad? In my field, one never knows...

The door opens. "You!!!"

Yeees, little ol'me. Isn't that a surprise? Glad to see you too. Well I mean, to *hear* you... Who are you, by the way? Okay, I know better than to ask... As far as you're concerned, I'm unconscious. Never mind. So?

Here comes a sound I don't like. Not at all. A brief hissing and a safety... unfastened? Of course, I had to fall on one of those guys who can dream of nothing more fulfilling for their lives than to shoot me on sight. Come to think of it, they outnumber my buddies by far. Even statistics are against me.

To shoot or not to shoot? It seems Mr. X hasn't still made up his mind. I'd like to think of it as a good point, but among the so-said guys, some would keep me alive only in order to see me suffer a little longer, believe it or not...

A rustle of fabric and a draught tell me that Mr. X has just knelt beside me. And a new metallic click... that he has secured his weapon again. God bless you my friend. For the moment anyway.

Two warm hands grope around my wrist and I'd swear Mr. X curses silently. I feel a new draught as he stands up and walks away without caring for the silence (so there are really no other guards? Data stored.) There are rummaging noises, then a clinging sound, and my saviour is back with what I hope is a key.

Yup, the warm fingers are back to the handcuff. I can't suppress a sigh of relief. FUCK! Mr. X instantly freezes. //Alex, you asshole! Couldn't you wait to be free, it was just a matter of seconds!//

Something soft touches my neck - a hand checking my pulse. Too late to fool him. "Drugged", I breathe. My voice is convincingly sticky even to my own ears. Mr. X doesn't answer but I feel his hand hesitate, before touching my cheek. Then a thumb lightly strokes my lower lip. Not a smoker's finger but there is a faint smell I *almost* recognize...? No, I can't place it.

The fleshy thumb lingers on my mouth, drawing it in a somewhat dreamy manner. "You..." I'd swear I know this voice, but Mr. X's monosyllables are too parcimonious for me to identify him. He seems to waver and I don't know what to make of it. I hear the resounding sound of a metallic device laid onto the ground and his second hand comes to my face. Then I feel a breath close to my nose and a mouth delicately lands on mine!

I'm disoriented and the drug has nothing to do with it. I can't turn my face away as he holds it gently but firmly. I must say the contact is rather pleasant and the mystery makes the almost chaste kiss even more erotic. But usually, I like to be the one in control.

Mr. X's mouth leaves mine with a sigh and I try to regain a normal breathing rhythm. Then the hands abandon my face. I'm waiting for them to loosen my bonds or at least to raise my blindfold but nothing happens... until they slide under my sweatshirt and cautiously stroke my chest, brush against my nipples. I'd think he's checking for possible injuries if not for the former kiss. I'm wondering what his aim is? Then I feel the feverish hands... on my belt. They're unfastening the buckle, then launching an attack on the fly of my jeans.

I can't believe it! This guy isn't going to rape me?!

I make an attempt to struggle but my legs are still too numb to provide me with any useful leverage. And I hear an unzipping sound before X's hands tear down my pants! I can't fight the inner panic that threatens to overcome my brain and my assailant utters a kind "Shhh." Oh, thank you, now I'm completely reassured!

At least he won't have the satisfaction of hearing me shout or even curse. I don't like to recall the thing, but it already happened. I know my silence didn't soften my rapists' intentions (yes, that was what you call a gang-bang), but sometimes I can be really stubborn, you see.

I strengthen myself, clench my jaws and try to empty my mind.

The hands that take my cock out are warm, careful, tender... And they begin to stroke me with such a delicacy that I'm caught off guard and my defence mechanism suddenly proves inacurrate.

I gasp despite myself - the sensation is overwhelming. Shut in complete darkness as I am, surrounded by an almost full silence (but for the short breathing of my "partner"), I feel all my attention drawn to my genitals, prisoner of the skillful fingers that rub my hardened flesh. Yeah, I'm hard, hard as hell! How can I be so aroused when at the mercy of somebody who can shoot me any time - or maybe part me from a portion of my anatomy I'm weak enough to value as much as my remaining arm??

The touch is light, feathery on my foreskin, holding it just enough to make it slide back and forth on my glans, sending shivers along my spine. Mr. X's second knowing hand searches lower and frees my balls. Silly, but a new surge of panic swamps my body... A man doesn't like to let unidentified hands take his most intimate legacy to a mysterious fate.

The hand - that shakes slightly - cups my right ball and squeezes it wonderfully. Nothing could stop me: I moan, causing my rapist to chuckle softly. Well, if the guy is a "rapist", then I'm Santa Claus.

I feel him getting in position for a more serious job, and soon my dearest part is swallowed with a greed I can't help but marvel at. The sweetest mouth I ever was engulfed by devours me with little sucking noises. His tongue is tickling the underside of my shaft whilst both his hands are busy with my balls, nursing them with loving attention. The lips go on, up and down, up and down, again, again, oh my God! Maybe I know the man but one thing's for sure: he never gave me head - I wouldn't have forgotten him! In the haze of my building climax I line up all the men I know in a row, on their knees, with open mouths for me to test... Giving a whole new meaning to Cinderella's glass slipper, isn't it?

Of course, if I must strike off all those who would rather blow my head off rather than making a job of it, the ranks are shrinking. Drastically.

Cinderella's mouth suddenly abandons my cock and my hips buck automatically to find again this haven of happiness - but he's just changed his mind and switched position as his lips are closing around my left ball and his fingers are back to take care of my aching member.

I whimper helplessly. My head rolls against the uneven wall and I stammer, "Please, oh God, please!" Whether I'm asking for a decisive caress to put an end to this exquisite torment or rather for an everlasting tease, I don't know any more.

His busy mouth utters an interrogative "Hmmm?" as his hand increases his pressure around me. The whispered humming sends a thrill into my lower belly and makes my swollen cock jerk between connoisseur's fingers. And it's my right ball's turn to be favoured with a succession of lickings, suckings, soft nibblings that don't fail to make my condition worse than it is.

I'm now begging wordlessly for his ministrations to take me over the edge. Another change in Cinderella's strategy brings his lips back to my dick, one hand around my balls and the other - well he's trying to slide his fingers lower, under my scrotum, against my perineum. I try to help him - I've completely forgotten the promise I made to myself earlier, no shouting, no cursing - but my sitting position isn't that appropriate. He's content with stroking the skin under my balls with regularity, and then he *really* swallows me.

I mean he deepthroats me as I've never been in my whole life. Has he no gag-reflex? Daily training on cucumbers?

My own reflexes cannot be slowed down any more - I feel burning fire gathering in my loins and my lava bursts out in a triumphant flood right in Cinderella's throat as shreds of flamboyant light tear apart the darkness that's blinding me. Load after load, he swallows everything and it seems to me he's purring around my member, sending more vibrations along my ragged nerves. He holds me till the last drop, and even a little longer. I'm grateful to him for not abandoning me to the coolness of my jail too quickly.

Mr. X licks me clean - this guy is a pearl - before dressing me again. At last his wonderful mouth comes back to mine, sharing my taste with me. With his lips against mine he breathes, "Thanks." I'd like to answer something kind, "You're welcome", you see, but I'm so drained that I'm merely able to pant.

I vaguely hear him fumbling beside my right hip and his wet hands bustle around my wrist. Then there's the ringing sound of a chain falling free against the wall. I want to raise the blindfold covering my eyes but he firmly holds my wrist immobile though without any roughness. I should struggle to free myself but I'm floatting in a hot afterglow, all my senses blurred.

Cinderella puts something small inside my hand, muttering, "Key." I still have this nagging feeling that I know him - but those one-syllable words uttered by a whispered voice protect his anonymity. A little rummaging and fabric noises later he adds something into my palm before closing my fingers around whatever he's given to me.

All of a sudden he's standing up and rushing towards the door! I hear his foot steps receding rapidly along what must be a maze of empty corridors if their resounding quality is anything to go by.

Still panting, I raise my now free hand in order to discard the blindfold, taking care to keep hold of Cinderella's gifts. The dim light coming from the opening on my right side doesn't really hurt and allows me to see two legs lying across the doorframe - my guard is still out, or worse.

Turning my face to the other side I see a vast empty room, a warehouse. Cold, wet, dusty. Cast iron pillars, and a few rotten crates. And against the wall, close to my eyes, my fake hand is handcuffed on a level with the good one. Not surprising that my left shoulder is twisted out. I had forgotten the discomfort for a little while if I'm to be absolutely sincere.

I stare dubiously at my closed hand. Time to know if Cinderella's mouth can be trusted for its words as much as for its talent. I carefully open my fingers and in my palm, yes, there is a handcuff key. And seeing what keeps it company, I softly whistle. I knew I'd already smelt that scent.

...Three sunflower seeds.

(The End)

 

* * *

 

Maybe you could first read (again?) "Blind Date" to refresh your memory of the previous events, as I published it several monthes ago. It's not too long. See at http://www.geocities.com/kand2m/bia01.html

TITLE: Cinderella  
AUTHOR: Kand  
SERIES: Brothers In Arms - Sequel to "Blind Date"  
FANDOM: X-Files  
PAIRING: M/K  
RATING: NC-17 (m/m sex)  
SPOILERS: all Nick's eps. I'm deliberately skipping Season 8. It could take place sometime before "Requiem".  
Author's NOTE: it looks like a PWP, it even tastes like it... But believe me, I need to establish the scene before proceeding further.  
DISCLAIMERS: these characters belong to Chris Carter, Fox Productions, 1013. No infringement intended. Anyway there are going to kill them sooner or later, so they are safer with us. [I first wrote this *before* Existence.]  
ARCHIVE: yup! Just tell me.  
URL: http://www.geocities.com/kand2m/bia02.html  
FEEDBACK: welcome at   
BETA: many, many thanks to Inky. She's too good for me. I don't deserve her, I swear.

* * *

"Cinderella"  
by Kand.

\-------------------

Alexandria - Mulder's apartment - 10:27 pm

The light from the TV sheds an intermittent flicker throughout the otherwise dark living room, randomly flashing on the fish tank. I step forwards to the couch and gently kneel in front of Mulder. He's asleep. So many times I have watched him in his sleep, as he was twisting and turning, fighting some unknown monsters in the web of his nightmares...

Tonight he seems peaceful. His fine features are rested. His pouting, half parted lips let go of light snores. He's almost smiling. He looks like the child he must have been before Sam was taken from him.

I could stay here for hours. In this silent contemplation. I have done it before. But this evening I have a task to perform. I'm almost certain of the answer I'm going to receive, yet I can't help being anxious. There are so many things at stake for both of us.

Please, Mulder, don't disappoint me.

Soundlessly, I draw from my jacket pockets some items I'm going to need and lay them down on the coffee table. I'm beginning to be used to relying on my remaining arm now, but sometimes it's really a pain - not only in the ass. I take my gun out and unlock the safety right beside his ear. It won't be a comfortable awakening, but nobody said it had to be.

He jerks in his sleep and those lovely eyes suddenly open, wondering. Mulder, Mulder! How many times will you let someone catch you defenceless? You're fortunate it's only *me*. He fumbles blindly under a cushion but the canon of the Sig Sauer is already stroking his temple and he immediately gives up. Good boy.

"Krycek. What do you want this time?"

Ah. Good question. A little conversation. An explanation. An answer. Proof.

"I have to check something."

"Nothing that could wait?"

"I have already waited. Far too long. Sit down."

He obeys my command with an annoyed sigh. He lifts a hand and I tense, but he's only scratching his scalp. Somehow, my menacing attitude doesn't seem to make him especially nervous. We're going to change this. I take one step backwards and motion him with my gun.

"Come on. On your knees."

His eyes rise to meet mine and he looks baffled. I calmly repeat, "You heard me. On your knees." The canon pushes a little at his temple and he swallows a gulp. Without letting go of my eyes he half rises slowly and lets himself slip to the ground before me. He stays there, unmoving, his arms hanging by his sides.

I lightly stroke his cheek with the cold metal before commanding, "Open my zip."

Nothing. He's still staring at me and I think he hasn't heard my order. So I spell it out distinctly, "O-pen-my-zip. Now." I add a little swat with the plate of the gun to draw him from his trance. He shakes his shoulders as if to verify he's really awake, and hesitantly lifts his fingers to my crotch.

I don't want to press him too much. I know we're on a delicate balance. I let the Sig reach his shoulder so it feels like less of a threat and put my fake hand on his other shoulder softly. "Go on, Mulder. You can do that for me, can't you?"

He grunts and his hands work my zip open. I don't need to give him further instructions - he is a smart man. He rummages through my underwear and takes my cock out. His fingers are so warm and the situation so erotic that I must bite hard on my lip not to moan out. I can't allow myself to show any weakness, not now. Later maybe.

Mulder chuckles. An unexpected sound from a man on his knees with a weapon buried in his neck but I knew it wouldn't be that easy. Speaking loud and clear, I say, "Open your mouth and take me in. No teeth, or there will be a big hole in that pretty shoulder."

"What the hell do you want, Krycek?" I love his monotone but I'm not proposing a game of truth or dare.

"I told you I have to check something. Just do as I say and everything will be okay." A new nudge of the gun but it's unlikely he could have forgotten it.

Reluctantly he parts his lips and closes them on my head. One more bite on my own lips and this time I taste my coppery blood. This is the only way not to shout. But I need more to be sure. So my fake hand goes on his skull and draws his head towards me, very gently. Even if nothing can let him guess now, I'm here to make love, not war... He resists a little against my hand, then with a sudden sigh he opens his mouth wider and engulfs me. I'm instantaneously hardening but this doesn't make him respond. He just closes his eyes and with his hands clenched on my hips he begins to suck me.

I knew it. For a while I was afraid I had been victim of an illusion induced by the drug, afraid that somebody left these seeds in my hand to mislead me - even if that mouth tasted the same perfume. When I got out of the warehouse on my still shaky legs my saviour was already gone. Of course I took the time to break the neck of the guard - it was pure mercy from me, the Smoker would have treated him in a far worse way to achieve the same result.

Mulder is moaning around my manhood and I must stop his willing ministrations or I'm going to come in a very short while, which is not my aim tonight. Holding his head I slowly lean back to disengage myself from his burning mouth. He emits a low protest when my flesh leaves his lips.

"Stand up, please."

He complies, relying on my hips and his eyes are level with mine. They are dilated and he doesn't really see me. Still holding his head I pull on it to take his mouth. His lips have remained parted and I can enjoy the same taste as a few days before. My precum, sunflower seeds, and *his* taste - a blend I can't mistake for any other.

I let go of his lips and whisper, "Check done." I wait for his reaction but he seems to be dreaming awake. I take the risk and secure my weapon before slipping it back into my waistband. Time to raise the curtain on the second act.

I glance at the coffee table and at the things I've brought. I won't need the scarf as Mulder went to *bed* with his undone tie. I make it glide from his collar and ask, "Can you blindfold yourself with this, please, Mulder? I can't do it with one hand."

He looks at me in shock. He is puzzled. Hell, I'd be too in his place He never was used to trusting me. He stares at me, questions in his eyes, but I won't give him any answer. I don't want to spoil the surprise. I just try to look as friendly as possible.

Eventually, he slowly raises his hands. Taking the tie from me, he puts it over his eyes and knots it around the back of his head. Then he lets his arms hang by his sides again. I bend over the low table and pick up the handcuffs I've brought. Lifting one of his hand I clasp one handcuff around his wrist, making him tense visibly. I gently push the wrapped hand to his back and breath in his ear, "Bind yourself, hands in your back. Please," I repeat as I brush the side of his neck with my lips.

He is a little clumsy but I'm sure he has the disposition to be a sub - if he isn't already. Did this Bitch from Hell (Phoebe, I mean) make him play this kind of games? When he's done I push him back to his couch, taking care to lead him there safely. "Sit down, Mulder," I say when his legs touch the leather. I have to help him as he shakes lightly.

He remains straight on the edge of his couch and I must push him back further to make him comfortable. When he feels the back of the seat against his shoulder blades he relaxes and lets himself go a little more confidently.

My God. This is a vision I'll never forget. Mulder blindfolded, his head tilted back on the leather of his couch, his arms stuck to his back, offered to whatever my dreams can invent... His breathing is uneven, light shivers cross his long body.

I fall to my knees and spread his legs. He seems ready to accept anything from me and I can't suppress a sigh of relief. I raise my good hand to brush across his chest and begin to torment a nipple through the fabric of his shirt, tearing from him a hot whimper. Without letting go of my prey I rub my cheek against the bulge in his crotch. He is as aroused as I am.

"A few days ago I was in a rather desperate situation," I begin. "Blindfolded, handcuffed, drugged..." He chuckles discreetly. "Then somebody came to help me in the most gallant manner. I wanted to thank my saviour but I had very little clues about his identity."

My hand comes back next to my cheek and I begin to unzip his fly, very slowly, teasing him all the way. I go on, "In fact I had a curious dream. All I knew of this "knight in shining armour" - for I thought it was a "he" - was the taste of his mouth, and the wonderful caress of his lips on my cock... So it made me think of Cinderella."

With that I free him at last and I immediately press my lips to his engorged flesh. I'm already insane with his taste and his perfume. He is all I ever dreamt he would be...

"Cinderella...?" he asks in a gasping voice.

"Yeah, you know, the glass-slipper. Only it wasn't a shoe. And it wasn't my foot I had to slip into it to recognize him." I scatter a bunch of small kisses all over his member that thanks me very courteously by eagerly jerking against my mouth.

This time, real laughter shakes him - I never heard him laugh that heartily. Grinning, I go on with my explanations. "So for a short while I imagined all the men I know on their knees, in a row, for me to test them." I avoid the detail of the ones that would have shot me on sight so as not to break the romantic mood.

He is still giggling and it's time to give the death-blow. Until now we could both think of it as a game - a twisted one, but fuck, we're living dangerously.

"Then the sunflower seeds put me off my stride as I hadn't thought of you one sole instant among those men."

Silence. He has frozen.

"I mean, each time I think of you, *I* am the one on my knees."

Mulder takes a deep breath and finally relaxes. "So?" he asks hesitantly.

"So I owe you one, I think."

"Oh." He sounds disappointed. "And that's all."

First I take him in my mouth and suck his hardness with delicacy for a short while then I let go of him to answer, "Only if that's all you'll allow." Before he can answer I'm back to my ministrations. His turn to call the shots. I just want to enjoy him now as much as I can as I really don't know what his next step will be.

"Why... why the blindfold and the handcuffs then?" Mulder asks.

I let his throbbing cock slip out of my mouth that I replace by my hand to caress him as skilfully as I can. My lips go down to his balls and I answer between kisses and sweet nuzzlings, "I want you to enjoy it as I did. It was such a great sensation... I never felt anything like it in my whole life, you know?"

"Rea... really?" he stammers.

As I just swallowed his left ball I can only mumble my assent. My nose is tickling the underside of his shaft and my hand vigorously strokes him. I'm leaning with all my weight against his firm thigh and I feel the tremors that run through it as his arousal is reaching his peak.

"Alex, please! Take me in your mouth! I can't wait, I'm going to come! Alex..."

To hear him call me the way he did in our partnership days make tears spring to my eyes. I free his ball and my mouth is back around his member. I try to relax enough to swallow it whole but it's not easy with sobs constricting my throat. His lower belly desperately bucks against my face and he shouts uncontrollably whilst flooding my mouth and throat with his essence. My good hand grasps his hip as a buoy in middle of a storm that threatens to rob me from my sanity.

His body progressively calms down and I keep him in my mouth - I don't know how long this moment can stretch, and I would just like time to stop. I shyly caress his hip and his thigh, waiting for his sentence.

He sighs deeply, then, "Please. Can you free me now?"

Oh yes, of course. I let go of his flaccid cock and raising my hand, I make the blindfold slide over his head but I don't dare to look into his eyes. I'm afraid of what I could read there. I search my pocket and produce the key of the handcuffs. He twists to his side so I can reach one of his hands and I loosen the metallic bond. He stretches his other arm and I free his second wrist.

I stay here, between his legs, with my eyes lowered and that stupid key in my hand. Suddenly I'm at complete loss when I hear his monotone. 

"Alex?" A warm hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing it. "I think we would be more comfortable in my bedroom."

I raise my face to look into his eyes and find them smiling with tenderness. I gasp as his hand reaches my cheek to stroke it. "I can't decently leave you in such an interesting situation," he says with a grin. "Is this all for me?" he adds, looking at my own cock that's painfully jutting out of my jeans. He stands up holding my shoulders and pulling me up with him. Then he grinds his spent member against mine and takes my mouth with a sigh of contentment.

I think I'm going to die.

\-------------------

Mulder enters into his rarely used bedroom and above his shoulder I see the bed half covered with manilas, magazines, books and I don't know what. He strides right to it, takes the blanket with both hands and violently shakes it, making all his stuff fly away! With a certain amount of dust should I add. I wonder if the couch wouldn't be more comfortable?

He gets rid of the blanket as well and I must admit that the sheets seem clean. Of course: he never sleeps in them. With the same determination and air of negligence he turns to face me and putting his weight on one leg he begins to unbutton his shirt, challenging me. "Do you want to keep your jacket? Not that I shouldn't find it exciting to fuck you inside it. Hmmm, just your skin against that leather..."

Mulder! I didn't think you were such a slut! Or have you watched too many porn tapes? Well, I would be mad to complain... I shrug out of my jacket and throw it away. My weapon follows the same way. In two steps I'm stuck to him, holding his waist tightly and feasting in his offered neck. His hands are busy with my belt and my waistband button. I hiss when the metal of my zip scratches against my sensitive flesh and receive the consolation of sweet kisses on my temple and in my hair.

Supporting myself on his shoulder with my prosthetic arm, I half bend to undo the Velcro bands of my combat boots and get out of them.

He has managed to take off his pants at the same time and I kick mine away. I make his shirt slip from his shoulders and he wiggles out of it before attacking my sweat-shirt. I feel reluctant and he understands. Nevertheless he's adamant if caring and he won't let go. Sooner or later he will see my arm, or what is left of it. Better now if it must squander the magic of the moment. I don't care for getting involved too deeply and finding myself rejected. I wouldn't stand it.

So I let him finish undressing me and his lips are on my chest, on my shoulder, on the top of my arm. It's the first time somebody touches me like this and there isn't the slightest ambiguity in Mulder's attitude. I look into his eyes whilst he unlatches my prosthesis and there is tenderness in them, but no pity. Maybe something that looks like guilt, but no disgust. He puts my fake arm on the chest of drawers and embraces me, showering kisses on my chest, licking my nipples one after the other, stroking and squeezing my butt.

"Mulder, please..." I beg. My desire is aching and I feel his own gaining strength again. His mouth is back on mine, parting my willing lips and finally his tongue invades me, searching for mine, playing with it, driving me nuts. I'm almost sobbing as I try to control myself.

"Alex... My sweet one..."

I don't think anybody has ever called me that before. I follow him as he pulls me towards the bed where we fall together, limbs entangled, mouths locked and our hands exploring each other. We roll over and over, sometimes I'm lying on him, sometimes he pins me right through the mattress. I want him, so strongly that I voice my will out loud. He cocks his head and he purrs, "How do you want me, Alex?"

"Mulder, you really want me to... to take you?"

"Isn't that what you need?" His smile is good enough to eat and so do I. Then he whispers in a tantalizing tone, "Alex, please... I've dreamt of this for so long... Whatever you told me, I'm sure you're used to topping your lovers, aren't you?"

As a matter of fact, yes I am. Even if I haven't been laid for a long time by what I could call a "lover" - only professionals, and I was the one laying them so to speak. But with him, I don't know... His grey-green eyes are burning with lust, his cheeks are on fire and he keeps grinding himself against me, washing me of all ability to think clearly.

"Do you have...?" Fuck, I didn't think it would go so quickly, or I just didn't believe in my lucky star. I didn't come prepared for a deep encounter. He nods towards his nightstand and I let him roll on his side so he can find what we need in the drawer. He's leaning on his back and having opened a little plastic tube, he lubes my stretched fingers. First the forefinger, then with a grin he adds some jelly on my middle finger. And pretending to wonder he ends up coating a third finger.

He lifts his legs to put them on my shoulders. I can't help but notice that he doesn't seem very used to this position and that there is anxiety in his beautiful eyes, though he keeps smiling in an enticing manner. I softly stroke his opening with my forefinger whilst closely observing his reaction. A brief shudder and a quickly hidden glow of fear in his eyes tell me more than I need. He raises shaking hands to support my shoulders, easing my movements.

I keep rubbing his anus very gently and I lean my face close to his. "This is your first time, isn't it?" He frenetically shakes his head but I can feel the shivers along his limbs. "Yes it is. You must not tell untruths to me, Mulder. Not now."

He closes his eyes, and with what sounds like a sob, he stammers. "Yes, Alex. I never went... that far with a man." He reopens his eyes and asserts, "But I want it. With you. Really. Please, Alex... Do not leave me now!" There are tears suddenly running on his soft cheeks and I drink them, lapping his sweet flesh.

"I won't leave you, Fo... Mulder. I promise. But we must go slowly, you understand? I don't want to hurt you. Never."

He nods and begins to relax against my finger. I wish I had my second hand to stroke his cock at the same time; it would make it easier for him. I could take him in my mouth but I want to look at his face, to read all of his reactions, to see the progress of pleasure on his beloved features. So I can just caress him with words. 

"Fox... Excuse me, Mulder, I want you to..."

"You can call me that," he interrupts. I must look puzzled for he explains, "You can call me Fox."

"I thought you didn't like your first name?"

"I didn't like it the way it was said to me for years. It always sounded like a reproach. But when you say it... Do you call me this when you think of me? When you are 'on your knees'?" he adds with a sexy grin.

"Yes, I call you Fox. Or... Lissinka. Little fox," I answer to his questioning look. His body is less tensed now and he unconsciously follows my motions so I dare to insert my finger in his anus a little. He gasps and I know that even if he has probably already done this to himself it feels very different to have somebody else's finger in your ass. So I bend and languidly kiss his trembling lips without pushing any farther. He needs more soothing words.And he deserves them. And I mean them.

"Fox... my Fox," I chant gently. "Do you know for how long I have dreamt of holding you this way? Often I came to you, knowing you would but use me as a punching-bag, but I just wanted to feel you against me. I knew it aroused you to hit me. I felt it. It wasn't your gun in your pocket, was it? You wear it in your holster."

"You never defended yourself." His tone is accusing.

"How could I hit you? Lissinka, I already made you suffer so much. Many times it was to spare you worse sufferings, but you couldn't know that. I just couldn't tell you." He moans and closes his eyelids, the fringe of his chestnut eyelashes caressing his cheekbones, as I push my finger deep into his hole at last. I stroke him, pulling out, pushing in, with soft moves that make him whimper helplessly, until I reach his prostate. He jerks under me with a high shout that I drink off his lips.

"Alex, oh Alex..." His head is rolling on the white pillow and I hit his gland once more, and again, till he can't stop crying out my name. His nails are planted in my back and I'm probably going to bleed but I really don't care.

I softly ask, "Can I give you another finger Lissinka? Sweetheart?" He raises his eyelids and nods eagerly. "Just tell me if I hurt you." I pull out my forefinger and am cautiously back with two. He softly hisses but doesn't pull back. His smile is encouraging and I fondle him more fiercely. Soon he's purring under me and he occasionally shouts when I hit his sensitive spot. His thighs are still shaking but I know that it is not with fear now. "Tell me, Fox," I ask as I kneel between his spread legs to find a better balance.

"Yes Alex, what should I tell you? That it feels, that *you* feel so good? Hmmm... Go on, please, give me more, please! I want to feel you, all of you. And I know you need it. I feel you..." Saying so he grasps my aching member and I moan as I am more than ready. But he needs more stretching so I spread my fingers rhythmically inside him a little while before taking them out to lube myself. He protests at the sudden loss but I admonish him.

"I must be very careful, Fox. You're so fucking tight, do you know that? It's going to be so good to be inside you... Inside your sweet, lovely, burning ass... Babe..." I purr over him whilst preparing myself. The lube is for me but the words are for him. To me they are more than superfluous and if I don't hurry I'm going to come over him and not inside. I take a deep breath and try to control myself. Fox is already so turned on that looking at him doesn't help.

At last I present myself at his entrance and push with the greatest care. "Breathe my Lissinka. Breathe deeply and relax. I don't want to hurt you." My head penetrates him and he shrieks with pain. I stop at once, shaking. "I can't do it, I'm hurting you, sweetheart!"

"No, no, Alex, please..." He's almost crying. "Give me just a little time." I bend to kiss his lovely mouth, and I utter against it, "You're so tight, so tight... Babe, I want you so hard. But I'll wait till you're ready for me. We don't need to hurry. We have all the..."

I was going to say, 'We have all the time in the world,' but this is not true, alas.

"We'll take all the time you need, I'll go at your pace, sweetheart, Foxy... Breathe deep..." So he does, and I feel his rim slightly loosening. I push a little further, one inch at a time, as I let him adjust to my cock after each shove. All along I'm murmuring sweet nothings between tender kisses.

"Alex... You're... inside me..." he whispers. Oh my God, I can't stand it, I want him and I really must fight my own desire to possess him like an animal. Little by little, as I push and he relaxes around me, I end up deeply sheathed inside him and I sigh with relief - then I stop moving to appease the fire in me and let Fox enjoy this sensation he's discovering with widening eyes.

"Fox? How does it feel?" I ask.

I have never seen him that radiant, he's so beautiful, my sweet Fox. How can I deserve this? Maybe I'm not wholly damned after all. He smiles, in such a dreamy way, and answers, "Big."

I chuckle, "Thanks. But doesn't it hurt?"

He shakes his head. "Not anymore. It burnt at first and I thought you were tearing me apart... Then I just felt your warmth, your flesh, your... You." That swollen lip is pouting in the most charming way and I can't resist the hunger to devour it. When I restore him with his capacity of speech he says, "Alex, can you move now? I want to feel you... even more. Deeper. Further. Please, my sweet one. Fuck me hard!"

Mulder, you're playing too many porn tapes, I told you. But believe me, as far as I'm concerned you won't need to rent any more. If you wish, you'll have your own private harder - ready, at home. So you want it deep? Were you never warned about wishing for dangerous things?

"Everything you want, my Fox. But if it hurts you must tell me, you promise."

"Yes, I promise. Please go on! I want you! Fuck me, Alex!"

I pull out a little and I'm back, then I move more frankly as Fox doesn't seem to suffer from my treatment, quite the opposite in fact. Instinctively he raises his hips to give me a good angle of penetration and soon my cock is back where my fingers were and meets his prostate. He screams for good and I just hope the neighbours are not going to dial 911 for murder. But I guess they are used to you and your strange behaviour, sweetheart. With each shove I go deeper inside my lovely nemesis and I marvel at the way he endures me in his no-more virgin, but still tight ass.

Soon he reaches his own member to jerk off - how I wish I could do this for him, to be inside him and around him at the same time. Next time I'll keep my prosthesis so I can rely on it to use my free hand to pleasure him as he deserves. Next time? Am I dreaming?

"Fox, my little foxy-fox... Is it good? Do you like it? You're so beautiful, I can't believe you're there, under me, for me... Stroke yourself, I want you to come... I'm going to feel you all around me, please, let me feel your pleasure, sweetheart... You can't imagine how good it is to be inside you... To feel you squeezing me, strangling me..." All the time I'm thrusting deep inside him, hitting his sweet spot and tearing a continuous love complaint from his parted lips. "When you take me... When *you* fuck me, you will know... You will feel... What it's like..."

Whilst listening to me he has opened his eyes wide and he comes hard, his ring muscles in spasms around my tortured rod, milking me a few seconds after himself. I collapse on his body as my shaking arm doesn't support me any longer and he unfolds his legs to entangle them with mine. I don't want to leave him. His arms are around my shoulders, stroking my back, following my spine absently, and I can just brush my cheek against his soft chest, my nose tickled by his rare hair.

I'm in paradise and I wonder how long it will take for my fate to find me again, and take me back where I belong? How long before he realizes what he has done, what we have done?

One of his hand is caressing my hair now, and I hear his monotone, hoarse in his afterglow. "Alex, my sweet one. You made me so happy. I didn't deserve it."

This makes me jump. "*You* didn't deserve it? If somebody deserves to be loved and cherished, it's you and I..." I shut up, cursing my big mouth. He's staring at me, mesmerized. He softly strokes my cheek as I try to stare defiantly at him but it's useless. Too late.

"If I remember well, you promised not to leave me. Then you said I could fuck you later. And now that you... that I deserve to be loved. Alex, you said it thrice. So it's true. And we're snarked." His eyes are sparkling with laughter and I sink into their grey-green shade. I'm lost. Drowned. And happy to be so. He adds, "I guess we're supposed to have a shower or something like that now, but I'm too tired. Just want to sleep. With you."

I try, "And what if we're glued together when we wake up?"

"Haven't we been for all eternity?" With that weird and very personal conclusion my Fox yawns and in no time he's sound asleep. And I feel so warm and comfortable in his arms that there is no reason for me not to follow him into Morpheus' realm.

\-------------------

Alexandria - Mulder's apartment - 07:30 am

The alarm clock's buzz wakes me up in the morning light filtered by the living room curtain and which hits me through the open bedroom door. I usually very quickly recognize where I am upon waking, but this morning the warm body wrapped around me somewhat destabilizes me. In fact,finding Fox nestled in my arm isn't rare in my dreams, but I know that I'm not asleep anymore.

All the more when I find that he doesn't sleep either and that he's staring at me with a thoughtful look. Okay, this is the moment of truth. I prefer to take drastic action, so I make an attempt, "Fox?"

If I'm wrong, if he regrets anything, if I dreamt all this... he's going to rip out my throat with his teeth. Drastic, I told you.

He contemplates me without a word, an enigmatic light in his eyes, then he leans towards me and his mouth takes mine, for a never-ending kiss that leaves me panting and hearing bells. While I fight to regain a normal breathing he playfully rubs his nose against mine and whisper in his sexiest voice, "My Alex. All snarked. Ready to fight the jabberwocks with me?"

I stammer, "This isn't in the same book. Mmph," I finish as my mouth is ravished once again by a very hungry Fox. When he lets go of me, I propose, "If we're going to fight bhojums together I don't want you to vanish in the thin air. So we must trust each other - I know it will be difficult for you but..."

He interrupts me. "I believe I trusted you all night, didn't I?"

"You know what I mean. Just tell me, how did you find me in that warehouse? How did you know I was there?"

"I didn't. I received a call telling me that the Consortium held a prisoner at this address. I was *a little* surprised when it turned out to be... you."

"Who called you?"

"Huh,huh, my turn. How did *you* end up in that precarious situation, Alexeï?"

I can't help smiling at the name. Time to play fair for once. It's now or never don't you think? "Smokey. He *summoned* me and... well I don't know anything more. I was near the warehouse and then I woke up where you found me. So, who called you?"

Fox emits a long whistle. "Cancerman, hey? *He* called me."

"What? Are you kidding? Why would have he made me a prisoner just to give you the opportunity to free me?"

"I don't know. Something's brooding. And I'd really like to have a clue... Anything on your side? Why did he "summon" you, as you said?"

I shrug. "As a rule, he doesn't tell me, you know. Just, "Be there and when." That's all. But once again it doesn't make any sense."

"Unless," Fox pensively adds, "he wanted us to meet on a, euh, neutral ground."

"You could have shot me at first sight, Fox. Maybe that's just what he wanted. But he could have had me killed whilst I was unconscious... No it doesn't work either."

"And thinking of it, the guard wasn't a real threat to you I guess. The guy didn't know who you were. He didn't really care. He was asleep when I came in. I just had to knock him out. He can't even tell Cancerman who came to rescue you."

"Anyway he won't be telling anyone anything anymore," I imprudently add. Fuck.

"You killed him?" Fox looks at me with what could be despise and my heart shrinks to nothing inside my chest. But he shrugs once more and comments, "I wish you would avoid that kind of casualty if we're going to work together. I know," he prevents my answer, "You see this as elementary caution. But if you're thinking of changing sides..."

"Fox." I take his cheek in my hand, stroking it affectionately. "There's a war raging on out there, even if it is a silent one. You can't just *forget* it. But I promise, I swear," and I'm deadly serious, "that I won't kill more than necessary. Unfortunately," I add, "it will probably be too much for you even so. You're a fucking honest warrior, babe. And this is *not* a honest war. People *up* there have no ethic - and they sure as hell don't give a damn about the Geneva Convention."

Fox remains silent and I let him digest my little speech. A few minutes later he begins to rub himself against me and when he raises his deep eyes I can see the tenderness in them again. And there is more, a languid air that I saw late night for the first time. I feel forgiven. "Shower?" he proposes.

"Together?" I ask.

He frowns. "You promised not to leave me."

"Yes, and I haven't changed my mind. But you must go to work, Lissinka. I'm sure you're already late. For the safety of both of us, you must not change anything in your habits. And.if we have shower together, I won't be responsible for anything that could happen!" Seeing his pouting mouth, I concede, "But I can make it easier for you, I think."

Before he can answer, I've folded the sheet away and I'm reaching for his morning erection. Soon he is moaning somewhere over there as I suck him like a giant lollypop. I don't tease him, I just want to release him from his tension. And enjoy him as much as I can. With this quicksilver mind of his and his well-known taste for self-guilt, I can't be sure he will be happy to find me here tonight as I intend to be. I don't trust myself to behave between his beloved hands, so I jerk off at the same time. We come almost at the same time - I mean that I succeed to postpone my own climax until he shoots down my throat.

I lick him clean and with a pat on his firm behind, I send him to do his duty. He reluctantly obeys, knowing I'm right.

Twenty minutes later he emerges from the bathroom, the regular G-man. I'm still stretching in the bed - a long lie-in is a rare luxury in my line of work. And a Mulder-perfumed pillow is the closest thing to a teddy-bear I've hugged for years. He comes back into the bedroom, bends over me, and kisses my lips. I could drink from them for hours but he draws back. "Will I see you again? Will you be here... tonight?"

"Unless the whole world crashes down, I guess so. Even so, I'll try. Don't be too late?" I ask.

He is in the doorway and he blows a kiss to me before leaving. I shut my eyes and listen to the door closing behind him and to his receding steps.

My God. What have I done.

\-----------------------------

J. E. Hoover Building -Basement. X-Files office. 04:27 pm

"Mulder. Mulder! MULDER!"

The FBI Agent wakes up from his daydream to stare at his redheaded partner. "Yeah, Scully? You were saying...?"

Scully sighs and shakes her head. Patiently, she repeats. "I said: how do you think you're going to justify your buying *three* full boxes of pencils in one month? I know," she acknowledges, seeing her friend's unhappy look, "Preparing expenses reports is probably the worst of X-Files, but someone has to do it. For God's sake, what did you do to those pencils?" She looks up at the ceiling. "For once, you didn't make a happening of them. Let me guess... they were abducted! Or you're feeding them one of your informant. A cellulose-and-graphite eater."

Mulder shakes his head in amused mock-despair. "I don't know, Scully! I swear. I took one box to home and left a second one here in my drawer." He opens it as a proof. "I couldn't find either of them after. Maybe we have a troup of gremlins infesting the Hoover, hmm?"

"If you're thinking of those 'blue screens' and errors messages, I'd rather bet for an offensive of the BOFH. So, three boxes of pencils? Mulder! I said, three boxes?"

"What boxes? Oh, pencils. Yes, three."

Scully stares to her partner distraughtedly. Since the very early morning he has been completely out. She enquired about possible sleeping disorders but he had such a mischievous look that she didn't try to push him. She sighs once again and concludes she's going to have to do the paperwork by herself without relying on her absent-minded partner. She *hates* paperwork. And accountants. Why no serious serial-killer ever goes on exterminating them she can't understand. Probably because this would be too rational a motive.

\-------------------

Alexandria - Mulder's apartment - 07:08 pm

Mulder inserts the key into the lock and hesitates for a split second before turning it in. All day he has been wondering what he would find back home. Little by little he has convinced himself that it would be an empty place, as cold as usual, the only noise the air-system of the fish tank, and the sole articulate voice the electronic alarm of his e-mail box.

He opens the door with resignation but stops on the threshold. The smell of fresh cooking fills his apartment. He feels a wring around his heart for it's such an intimate welcome, one he hasn't been greeted by since his childhood. He doesn't bother taking off his coat and goes right to the kitchen.

Alex is busy in front of the small stove, a tea-towel slipped in his jeans waistband, thoughtfully testing something in a spoon. On the counter behind him, an apple-pie is waiting. Mulder leans against the doorframe to keep his legs from shaking. "It, huh, smells good. What is it?" he stammers.

His guest comes to him with his raised spoon and a warm smile on his face. "A stew. I didn't know when you would be home, so I prepared something that could cook longer. A little more paprika, maybe?" he asks, holding the spoon for Mulder to taste.

"I... I don't know. Maybe. You're the cook. Hey," the FBI agent suddenly laughs in relief, "Of all things... I didn't know you were trained in domestic matters too?"

The killer puts down the spoon beside the stove, then in a hoarse voice: "That's off the record, Agent Mulder?"

"Yeah, Scout's honour!" Mulder says, raising two fingers. He stops in his move with incredulous eyes. "Was it... It was *you*? Michael? Marty's victim?"

Krycek silently nods but doesn't avoid the Fed's eyes. As Mulder remains speechless, jaw dropped, he says, "I was really surprised you didn't recognize me when I was assigned to you on the Cole case. I had changed my look but with your photographic memory, I believed... I thought a lot about it later, but in the end, decided you just hadn't ever looked at me properly!"

Mulder blushes. "Oh no! No, it wasn't like that at all!. I looked at you, I really did... I had never been attracted to a man before, and. I guess my mind refused to accept the possibility, and repressed the sentiment and all that went with it? What were you doing there, in that club? Was it an... accident? I can't believe it."

"Yes and no. The Syndicate had been contacted by those aliens. They were very peaceful people as you know, and completely at bay with Marty's behaviour. I was sent to track him but I was less... trained than today. Without this nice cop's intervention, I should have met my end in that car. Fucked to death, that's my life," he nervously laughs. He lowers his dark eyelids.

Mulder takes his hand and draws him towards the couch. He makes him sit there and takes place in front of him, on the low table. Still holding the assassin's hand, he asks, "Alex, what is your name? Your real name?"

\-------------------

I stare in his eyes. His wonderful grey-green eyes. There is no despise in them, no defiance; no trust either. Just cold question. Cold? Not really. He's just staying on his guard. He has been hurt so often, so often betrayed - and by me most of all. Fox, this is all so new, and could go so far! We're both aware of it. I don't want to ruin it now. I don't want to lie to you anymore - to hell with consequences.

I steady my voice. "My name is Aleksandr Mikhaïl Nicolaïevich Krycenko. When we came to America my father shortened it into Krycek. Easier to pronounce, he thought."

"And what about Arntzen?" Fox asks, still holding my hand.

"Aunt Katarina's birth name. She's German, she married my Uncle Evgeni a few years after WWII. Uncle Evgeni kind of fostered me. We thought he was working for the KGB. As a matter of fact he was, but later I learnt he was a member of the Russian Consortium. He organized our flight to West. We were so grateful to him," I chuckle. "How could have we known it was all but a long planned movement?"

Fox's eyes are softer now. Better for me to talk while I have the courage to.

"When he took me to work with him, I felt sometimes... upset, by what I had to know or witness. But he was my uncle and it was also an exciting adventure. And I sincerely thought it was my duty, that I was acting right. Then they assigned me to you, and as I was working by your side, I... I fell in love with you."

Fox frowns and his voice is icy. "But you betrayed me."

There's a lump in my throat. Each time I think of those days I feel the memories choking me. "As soon as I understood what they intended to do with Scully, I wanted to tell you about. But then they reminded me... Dad, Mom and my sister Maroussia were here in USA, but the rest of the family... My grand parents, my cousins, my two other aunts... They were still in Russia. They made very clear what would happen to them if I chose the 'wrong' side. Uncle Evgeni has kept a lot of friends from his former days in KGB. And anyway we both know that the Syndicates and Consortiums are above laws, above borders."

I lower my head as I can't stand his look. "Later it was too late. Far too late. You distrusted me so much."

Fox's free hand reaches my cheek and raises my head, making me look into his eyes. "So, why now? What changed?"

"You heard about what they called a "Chechen terrorist attack" on a Moscow building one year ago." He nods. "My whole family was living there. No survivors."

He moves to sit down on the couch, close to me, his thigh along mine, and takes me in his arms. I've repressed all these thoughts year after year but talking them out loud, I can't keep control. I burst into tears, burying my face in his neck. He's rocking me, dispersing kisses all over my hair, stroking my shoulders. I wipe my nose with my sleeve and he produces a handkerchief. I go on, "I had already joined the Rebellion. I've chosen my side, Fox," I say, raising my face to him. "They need me as a mole inside the Syndicate. There is no room for private interests here. But I'm... so. tired."

I wouldn't admit any weakness to anyone in this fucking world. But the sluice gate is open.

Pensively, Fox asks, "Where do you live, Alex?"

"What dya mean?"

"I mean, 'where do you live'. In DC? Do you have an address? You're not homeless, I guess?" His smile dies when I shake my head.

"Here and there. Motels. Hotels. Hide-out. Warehouses. Letterboxes. Lockers. I'm always on the move, Fox. I was taught very young to own nothing personal. This is pathetic, isn't it?" I can't help adding.

The man I love contemplates me in silence; then he takes my mouth and I forget everything for a merciful while. When our lips part he whispers, "You can have a home of your own now. I mean -" he looks fearful of his own words, " - any time you wish to... stay here, you can come. And if you have things you want to leave here, clothes, books, I don't know... There is room enough for two."

He shuts up, waiting for my answer. How I wish we live in a world where I just could say, that's okay, I'm bringing my stuff and settling here with you. But there are so many dangers around me. Around us. I stammer, "I'll think of it, I promise."

Then a smell of burning reaches my nostrils, causing me to jump to my feet. "Fuck, my stew!" And I rush into the kitchen, still wiping my nose.

\-------------------

Mulder pushes away his plate, licking his lips. "I can't have any more, I'm full up. Honey, I swear I never ever ate such an apple-pie in my whole life! Is this your secret recipe?"

"Exactly, and I won't give it up even under torture." I feel awfully glad at this little domestic scene. I resist the urge to ask something like, 'how was your day at work, darling'? Instead I propose, "Coffee?"

"Nope or I won't sleep." He realizes what he has just said and we burst into laughter. Neglecting the dishes on the table I rise and hold my hand to him.

"Didn't I hear something some hours ago about us showering together?"

\-------------------------

I follow him into the bathroom. I know it, as well as the rest of his apartment. I wonder if I don't know it better than himself. I could retrieve things he even doesn't remember he has lost. I'm sure he never remembered that box of pencils! I couldn't resist the urge to take them - they're perfect to play Mikado with one hand. I knew of only one other guy who bought his pencils by the box - an old friend who moved to Canada when he was released from the Gulag. A cartoonist. When he arrived West, he couldn't imagine he had the right to buy so much supply at once and without a ticket. He never had enough of them.

We're both naked before thinking of it. He pulls me under the warm drench and rubs his glorious skin against mine. We had a lot of serious talking made and I want to be back to last night's passion. I go down on my knees and sink my face into his crotch, eating him with the eagerness of a starving man. Do you really think that drinking him twice would be enough to appease my thirst? I have years of loneliness behind me. And the same with him. I wish he won't change his mind and will allow us to catch up on with them.

He playfully pours some soap into my hair and begins to shampoo me. I silently ask for a little dose and make it foam around his balls. He groans and leans against the tiled wall, spreading his legs to give me better access. I want to swallow him further but he pulls back gently. I whimper at the loss, but he makes me stand up. "Don't want to waste it," he explains. As an excuse he adds, "I don't mean it would be so to fill your lovely mouth, my sweet Alex." His lips devour mine whilst his hands are covering with perfumed foam every inch of me they can reach. "Late night you promised me that I could take you..."

His voice is hesitant and he looks almost shy.

"Anything you want. And the sooner the better! Let me wash you, Foxy. And keep your hands off me or we will end up doing it in the shower, and it wouldn't be as comfortable as I want for your first time. Okay?"

He agrees with a charming grin and lets me do. I quickly rinse both of us, turn the tap off, let him help me out of the tub and wrap him into a bathrobe, picking up a towel that he drapes around my waist. I rub him thoroughly, avoiding strategic parts. It's difficult as to my eyes he's a fucking sex on legs. He's giggling like a kid with bright shining eyes, his hair tousled, this chestnut lock falling on his forehead. How are we going to make it to the bedroom?

I give up. I just take his hand and haul him towards the bed. I'm still half wet but I don't care. Pushing on my shoulders he makes me sit down and kneels between my legs to stick his torso against mine. Having freed me of my towel, his hands stroke my sides and my back. He massages my cock with his own whilst I hold his waist tightly with my arm. I undertake to leave my mark in his neck and I let go of his skin only when he's screaming for good.

"It hurts!" he claims with a feigned reproach.

"Not as much as wanting you inside me, sweetheart. You're killing me. Did you change your mind?" I insinuate. I have the sweet pleasure to see him blush. "So, how do you want me?" I quote him. He seems deliciously embarrassed.

"Well, how do you think... it could be... huh, the easiest?"

"For an absolute beginner in topping?" I tease him. He blushes even more. My little cherry-pie. Time to put a stop to his torment, and to mine. "Lying on my back like yourself late night. I'll be able to help you - if you really need it." He nods vigorously. "And so I can look at you all the time. I don't want to waste a second of you. Just help me with these pillows," I say, backing up till I reach the headboard with a suggestive move.

He gets rid of his robe in a hurry and literally bounds on me. He rummages in the pillows with a remarkable lack of efficiency and I would laugh at his clumsiness if I wasn't so aroused. I remind him of the lube in the nightstand's drawer. He puts it down on the bed then he stretches the whole length of his body on mine and undulates like a cat in heat, kissing me deeply with his so talented mouth. He's definitely at oral stage and it's okay with me, even if I'm eager to see him pass to the anal one.

He stares at me with smiling eyes and I realize I've been begging for more without being conscious of it. I'm losing myself and I don't regret it in the least. "I must prepare you," he says with utter earnestness.

I nod. In fact he could skip this step as I'm more than ready, but I don't want him to miss a thing. We unscrew the small tube together and I spare some cold jelly on his fingers. He looks like an assiduous pupil. He's so cute. I raise my legs to my chest before putting them on his shoulders. He kisses them one after the other, adding little licks on the inner side's sensitive skin that give me the shivers. I'd like to urge him but I know he needs to take his time. Yet I can't suppress a whispered request and his forefinger goes down to shyly circle my opening.

"Oh yes, Fox, please... Do it, you're so sweet... Take me with your fingers, babe..." My encouragements are rewarded by his growing audaciousness. I slowly move my hips to help him and I moan as he penetrates me for the first time. We stare at each other, equally fascinated by the look on our faces. He finds the right move easily and soon his long finger hits my prostate, making me jerk with a shout. "There you are, Lissinka! So good... Go on, please, don't stop!"

He rummages to find again the spot and his technique is quickly improving. He's damned good at this, my clever Fox. He was made for pleasure, and I intend to indulge him as often as I can. Soon I'm crying in delight and I beg him to take me harder. He carefully adds a second finger and seeing how I enjoy it, he rapidly decides to experience new ways of pleasuring me, varying the speed and angle of his penetration. Oh my God, he's turning me into fucking jelly. I won't last if he goes on tormenting me this way.

Stammering, I tell him so and squeeze the tube with my palm to coat my fingers. I hold my hand towards his throbbing cock and he leans over to let me lube him. I rub his length with tenderness and amazement. I already know how beautiful he is but I can't get my fill of him. At last I softly push his hard member down to bring its head closer to my hole. He complies and pulls out his fingers to take hold of himself. I reach my right cheek to spread myself wider and he points me without hesitation. His desire is teaching him better than I could.

I'm so ready that he enters me with only a few strokes. A look of surprise lights up his face as he feels himself strangled. His grey-green eyes are drowning in mine and I ask for his mouth to take me as hard as his cock. His tongue invades me, playing with mine while he pushes deeper in my ass, tearing a choked cry from my dry throat. He anxiously looks at me and I reassure him with a smile. "Move now, sweetheart. You won't hurt me. Take me hard, deep, please, Fox..." I beg. Then I can only shout as he begins to fuck me the way I've been dreaming of for years.

Instinctively he has lifted my hips and adjusted his angle. I could jerk off but I prefer to grasp his hip, feeling the effort of muscles rolling under soft skin. He's aware of my need and his hand closes around my rod, driving me to my climax more quickly than I want. The sensation is overwhelming and I can't keep my body under control - I erupt over his fingers, shooting long loads of milky cum on our bellies. He's caught in my spasms that clutch at him and he comes a few seconds after me, screaming my name, filling me with his hot essence.

I reopen my eyes to find his cheeks inundated with tears. I take hold of his face and pull it to mine, kissing him with tenderness and gratitude. My sweet love... I lick the salty drops on his face, whispering gentle words, pulling him to my chest, entangling his limbs with mine. His head rests in the hollow of my neck now, his sobbing slowly subsiding, whilst I stroke his silky hair and kiss the chestnut strands that tickle my nose.

I rock him into sleep. When I hear his even breath, I feel moisture on my own face. I hadn't realize I was weeping too.

\-------------------

And there was another morning, and there was another night...

Every evening Mulder was coming home with eager and anxiety melting in his guts. Once, he found an open black duffel bag beside the couch and a bomber jacket in his closet. Another day, the apartment was empty but there were some paperbacks with Cyrillic titles on one of the bedroom shelf; fifteen minutes later, a breathless killer knocked at the door with his combat boot, his arms loaded with grocery bags.

He never dared to ask Alex of which stuff his days were made.

\-------------------

Alexandria - Mulder's apartment - Saturday 09/18, 1999, 08:25 am

Widely yawning, I stretch with the tranquillity of mind of one who wakes up each morning in the same bed. I don't even want to remember for how long I couldn't afford this. His pretty face buried in the white pillow close to mine, my Fox is sound asleep.

Our first week-end. In a normal world, what could we do? To attend a match? I know he's mad about baseball. Or I could draw him to an exhibition. I mute a laugh at the idea of Agent Mulder trying to look interested in pop' art. Maybe he is - I realize I have no ideas about his taste in paintings. Or we could spend the evening at this jazz bar. I haven't been there for years but I heard they still play good blues.

But we don't live in a normal world. It wouldn't be safe to be seen somewhere together, I know. Whilst musing so I'm stroking his silky chestnut hair and he wakes up slowly. He opens misty eyes and smiles at me. "Good morning, sunshine." I answer with my best, loving, devouring kiss.

"What about some breakfast?" I propose.

"Oh yes, I'm in!" he shouts. And crawling under the sheet he leans head to tail against me. His jutting cock tempts me and I hear him chuckle under the light fabric when I begin to lick him with long strokes. Well, I suppose there are other ways to spend a week-end together, not much less conventional.

\-------------------

We hold each other on the couch, laughing out loud at Coyote crashing into a canyon for the twelfth time in pursuit of the Road Runner, when the phone rings. I'm closer to the thing so I unhook the receiver and hold it to Fox. I try not to listen - which is really hard and against all acquired instinct. So, I hear. "Yup. Well it can wait till Monday. What? No, nothing special, I just wanted to have a little rest for once." He makes a face at me and tousles my hair. "Okay, just e-mail it to me, and I'll have a look at it. Yes! My line is secured! It has just been checked." Sure, I did it yesterday. "The answer on the special line, okay. Bye"

I don't want to ask, but I'm burning with curiosity. He leaves his poor rat on his hot tin roof. "Gunmen?" I hazard. "Nobody can be that paranoid," I justify my guess.

He nods, then with a sudden thought, "If someday you have to leave..."

I frown, waiting for what's following.

"I mean, you can have to go on some business of yours... You *will* have to, sooner or later." I nod. "It would be good for you to have a way to communicate whatever you find, or if you need a hand, see what I mean..." I see. "My line here isn't always safe."

I burst into laughter. "Nor is your door. Nor your whole apartment. You're right, if I leave for more than two or three days, I'll have to debug the damn place all over again! No offence meant, but..." I wipe my eyes, I hadn't had such a laugh for months, ouch. "So your proposal was...?"

He looks at me sternly. "I could give you the number of a secured line at the Lone Gunmen. But I don't know if they'll agree with this. I doubt it."

"You don't need to tell them. If I have data to transfer, I'll just do so. Using your name. Or do you have a password?" I'm not completely kidding.

"No, the line is sure enough. And not traceable."

My turn to doubt but I don't tell him. His secrets are safe with me, believe it or not. Then another ringing resounds, this time in the kitchen. "I must baste the roast beef," I say getting up. 

"You're going to make me gain weight," Fox protests. I stop on my way to the kitchen and I turn to face him. "Don't you think you need some? You look like a stray cat, babe. And I'll have more to feed on." I avoid a flying cushion and I'm back to *my* oven.

\-------------------

Alexandria - Mulder's apartment - Sunday, 09/19, 1999, 10:23 pm

Mulder is champing at the bit. Leaning on his couch he zaps from one channel to another without looking even focusing on the screen. He has feared this since the second evening. At four in the morning, Alex's cellular had rung, hurrying him away to the streets without any explanations.

A feeble knock makes him bound towards the doorway. He opens the door and receives into his arms a tall body that seems to be covered with as much blood and mud as leather. He supports him to the couch after kicking the door shut.

Alex lets himself slip on the couch with a groan of pain. Mulder can take a closer look at his messed-up lover. His face is stained with blood, a black bruise runs from his left cheek to his temple and dark rings underline his eyes. He carefully unzips the leather jacket and gasps in awe when he sees the reddened tee-shirt. Alex spits, "Not mine." Together they get him out of his leather. He hisses when the skin brushes over his injured knuckles.

"Can I take you to the bathroom?"

"Yeah, sure."

Relying on the older man's hold, Alex totters to the bathroom and waits for Mulder to lower the toilet slide so he can sit down, leaning back against the flush with a moan. "Tee-shirt," Mulder softly commands. He makes the cloth pass over the pricked sable hair and sighs in relief as he sees no genuine bleeding on Alex's chest. The killer's back shivers when meeting again the cold enamel surface.

Without a word, a worried Mulder gathers up first aid material near the sink; then he soaks a washcloth with liquid soap and begins to work with light fingers on the bruised face. Alex lets himself be taken care of. "It's not as bad as I thought. You're slightly cut above the eye. It bled a lot, but you don't need suture." Mulder applies a haemostatic band-aid and seals it with a small kiss, tearing a smile from a split lip. Then he washes the lip that receives another cautious kiss.

"I'm going to wash your chest and back. I don't see any injury, just bruises. Did the guy hurt you somewhere else? Inner injuries? Do you feel anything wrong, Alex?"

The killer's first answer is a furious glance. "The *guys*. There were three of them. Do you really think a lone man could have done this to me? And no," he adds, "I don't think there's anything too serious. You can proceed, Nurse Mulder," he grins as he pushes his chest against the waiting hands. Fox cleans shivering skin, rinsing several times the reddened rag.

"I'm disappointed, Fox."

"What for?"

"You're not aroused. I thought you always had a hard-on on when seeing me beaten to a pulp."

Mulder pulls back, concern on his face. "Are you crazy? How can you think that I..." He stops as his eyes meet green, shining pools. "Alex, how can you joke about such things?" He looks really hurt so his lover raises his hand to draw the chestnut head to his lips and kisses the falling strand with tenderness. "I'm sorry, Lissinka. I'm teasing you. You're such a lovely nurse. I'll leave a recommendation for your promotion. Ouch!"

"Sorry, honey. You're all black and blue over there. We're going to have to resort to big means." Mulder rummages through the medicine cabinet and comes back with cotton wool and a brown bottle. He pours some liquid on the cotton pad and begins to coat bruised parts. Alex's nose quivers and he frowns. "Mulder, what's that? Arnica? You're still using that old stuff? Oh my God," he sighs, "I hadn't any since my grandmother was healing me!"

"It's very efficient. Had she to heal you often?"

"Babushka? Each time I had a tussle at school. Always told me I was good at putting myself into trouble. Guess she knew me well. But I usually won!"

"So you did this time, I suppose?"

Alex's eyes darken. "If I hadn't, I would be dead, Fox."

Mulder freezes. He throws the cotton pad in the basket and kneels between Krycek's spread legs. "Alex, I... I didn't know... Huh, did you... have to kill them? Honey?"

Alex shakes his head. "No, I didn't. They're alive and well. I mean, alive and only a little *broken*. But they will live to tell the tale, Fox." He says with sincerity, "I promised you. Though they would have deserved..." He shuts up and leans in his lover's embrace. Then he whispers in his ear before nibbling on it, "I'm exhausted, sweetheart. Too tired for a shower. How about you finish washing me all over before we go to bed? Hmm?"

With a grin Mulder takes hold of the jeans waistband and undertakes to undress his mate. He lowers himself to peel the Velcros of the black combat boots and free the elegant feet. Alex bends to support himself on the sink whilst enjoying Mulder's careful gestures. The G-man takes the opportunity to check the long legs but he finds only one bruise on the left thigh, though the clear imprint of a sole makes him clench his teeth and draw his breath in sharply.

"Fox, haven't you forgotten something?" Alex asks as Mulder is spreading some arnica on the bruised thigh. His nurse raises an innocent face. "What do you mean?"

"I feel like a pain, somewhere. A little higher. No, still higher. On the right side. No, on *my* right side. It's left for you. Not that far. In the middle. Don't you see anything? I'm sure there's something swollen over there. Yup, there you are. Oooooooh, Fox... NO, no arnica, please!"

(The End)

  
Archived: September 15, 2001 


End file.
